e, and Mr. Waddington, who
seemed already to be treated with the consideration of a regular
customer, ordered a luncheon which, simple though it was, inspired his
companion with respect. The waiter withdrew and the auctioneer and his
quondam clerk sat and looked at one another. Their eyes were full of
questions. Mr. Waddington made a bad lapse.

"What in hell do you suppose it all means, Burton?" he demanded. "You
see, I've got it too!"

"Obviously," Burton answered. "I am sure," he added, a little
hesitatingly, "that I congratulate you."

Mr. Waddington at that moment looked scarcely a subject for
congratulation. A spasm, as though of pain, had suddenly passed across
his face. He clutched at the sides of his chair.

"It's marvelous!" he murmured. "A single word like that and I suffer in
an absolutely indescribable sort of way. There seems to be something
pulling at me all the time, even when it rises to my lips."

"I shouldn't worry about that," Burton replied. "You must get out of
the habit. It's quite easy. I expect very soon you will find all
desire to use strong language has disappeared entirely."

Mr. Waddington was inclined to be gloomy.

"That's all very well," he declared, "but I've my living to get."

"You seem to be doing pretty well up to now," Burton reminded him.

Mr. Waddington assented, but without enthusiasm.

"It can't last, Burton," he said. "I am ashamed to say it, but all my
crowd have got so accustomed to hear me--er--exaggerate, that they
disbelieve everything I say as a matter of habit. I tell them now that
the goods I am offering are not what they should be, because I can't
help it, and they think it's because I have some deep game up my sleeve,
or because I do not want to part. I give them a week or so at the most,
Burton--no more."

"Don't you think," Burton suggested doubtfully, "that there might be an
opening in the profession for an auctioneer who told the truth?"

Mr. Waddington smiled sadly.

"That's absurd, Burton," he replied, "and you know it."

Burton considered the subject thoughtfully.

"There must be occupations," he murmured, "where instinctive
truthfulness would be an advantage."

"I can't think of one," Mr. Waddington answered, gloomily. "Besides, I
am too old for anything absolutely new."

"How on earth did you succeed in letting Idlemay House?" Burton asked
suddenly.

"Most remarkable incident," his host declared. "Reminds me of my last
two sales of anti